2:45 am. The numerals on his smartphone shone brightly against the dark silhouette of the doorway as one Hikigaya Hachiman fumbled around with the lock of his front door, hands numb from the cold. Outside, apart from the occasional roar of a car whizzing past, the neighborhood was dead quiet.
Click.
With a sigh of relief, Hachiman quietly opened and closed the door, making sure not to make too much noise. Out of the 5 members of the Hikigaya household, the woman (and the cat) were known to be light sleepers, and could get particularly nasty if disturbed.
"Looks like I'm sleeping on the couch again."
However, there was no time for sleep, and he knew that. Hikigaya Hachiman was a upcoming name in the Japanese literary world, famous for his satirical novels on the Japanese business world. His first title, To Work is to Lose, was very well received, andhad a surprisingly varied audience, from indecisive high school students to the weary middle-aged salary man.
However, Hachiman found himself looking at another all-nighter. Ironically, he could not afford to win at all. He had bills to pay, a family to take care of, and deadlines coming up very soon. He still had an editorial to finish for the news agency he was in charge of. This industry he was in was a cutthroat one, and if he wasn't at the top of his game, he would easily wither and die out.
Sighing, Hachiman undid his snow laden outer wear, and proceeded to the closed living room, MAX coffee in one hand, his laptop case in another. Closing the door to the rest of the house, he shivered as he proceeded to make a makeshift nest with pillows and blankets on the couch he was on. Apparently someone had forgotten to turn of the air conditioning when they left this room. He did not have to look far for the culprit though. The textbooks and a messy, masculine signature written on each of the books gave away the true identity of the culprit.
Honestly, I tell him so many times to turn off the air conditioning, and still he doesn't listen. It's money down the drain. I swear…
However, today he did not mind as much. As he found out in high school, the cold was his friend when he was presented with a difficult task. It helped him think clearly. Sardonically, Hachiman smiled to himself. High school. What a wonderful fuckery of emotion and hormones. Not everyone got to enjoy the slice of life filled time depicted in manga and light novels. In his run, masks were donned, relationships were broken, and miscommunication caused many a sleepless night for multiple parties. And usually, he would be at the epicenter of the problem, or close to it, at least.
In a sense, I could be considered a martyr, right? After all, if I look back at it, I was the hero that Sobu High needed, but not the one it deserved. Kudos America, you really know how to write catchy movie lines.
Snow began to fall outside, but he was quite comfortable now. A soft blanket covered his lap, and a can of warm coffee sat next to him, already half empty. With a yawn, Hachiman opened his laptop, the HP logo blazing in the relative darkness. No fancy Apple laptop for this writer. Hachiman abhorred Apple computers. After all, didn't the sight of an Apple computer make one think of a college student typing away importantly at the window of a Starbucks? Didn't it really want to make one punch that person, thick glasses and all? Stupid riajuu hipster bastard. Just go die in a fire. Oh, and take your stupid laptop with you.
Those thoughts aside, he opened the piece he was working on. An editorial on this week's theme; love and marriage. His favorite topic.
Damn, all those years of playing VNs and watching anime, and not a single iota of inspiration.
Racking his brains, Hachiman couldn't help but give out another enormous yawn. The cheap coffee he downed earlier did nothing to help his brain stay alert. In fact, the cool room contrasted well with the warmth from the blanket and the couch. Slowly, against every fiber of his being, his eyelids drooped.
It wouldn't hurt if I close them for just a second…
-man"
Five more minutes mom. Let me sleep.
"-chiman."
Louder. Please shut up.
"Hachiman, wake up."
That was not his mother, nor was it Komachi. He instantly opened both of his eyes, in spite being interrupted from his accidental nap. There in front of him, garbed in a simple nightgown, with a look colder then the now raging blizzard outside, stood his wife. Yukino.
"I've told you time again, come home early. Its 4:00 in the morning. You haven't even seen the kids these past couple of days. Even I saw my father on a more regular basis, and he was a politician. And another thing-"
Meekly, Hachiman could only keep his head bowed. His wife was mad, and justifiably so. His work load as both the editor of a big news agency and an author took time away from his family. With the children's schooling and his exhausting work hours, there wasn't much interaction between him and his kids.
Sheesh, I've turned into my shitty old man, believe it. Sorry pops, for every insult I have ever called you behind your back. But you're still sometimes a bastard. Most of the time.
Suddenly, a mug was thrust in front of him, the contents filled with steaming café colored liquid. Eyes widening in surprise, Hachiman looked up.
"You were always a hard working idiot," Yukino smiled sadly. "Whatever happened to your ambitions of being a house-husband?"
Accepting the cup, Hachiman returned her smile with a tired one of his own. "When the ones you love the most are dependent on you, even a house-husband would go to find work."
"Ara, was that supposed to be a witty comeback? That's very unlike you, Sleepygaya-kun. Very weak."
"Leave me be. Also, aren't you Hikigaya as well?"
Silence.
Hmm, he thought, no comeback. Apparently, there was more than one Sleepygaya in this household. Noticing his wife's retreating footsteps, he returned his attention to the sleeping computer. She must be going back to sleep.
Idly noting the Pan-san cup design, he took a sip of the now pleasant coffee, and let out a small moan of appreciation. Like everything his wife cooked, it was simply heavenly. The perfect ratio of sugar to caffeine to milk, at just the right temperature. Bliss. Not that he would tell her that.
"Oh, I don't need to hear that. I already know." Yukino smiled haughtily as she returned from the kitchen, another mug in her hand.
"How-"
"We've been married for quite a while now. Even back during our Service Club days, no matter how much you tried to hide it, I knew you enjoyed my cooking."
Hachiman looked away, grumbling to himself, though without any ill-will. Suddenly, a flash of cold, followed by a warm pressure on his right side. Long black tresses fell over his chest as she rested her head on his shoulder. Despite being an avid fan of winter and cold temperatures, Yukino cuddled into him as if he were a tangible, huggable fire in the middle of an ice storm.
"You know, the kids miss you."
"I know."
"I miss you."
"I know."
"Do you miss us?"
"Is that even a question?"
"Fair enough."
A comfortable silence, punctuated by the occasional click-clacking of the keys.
"Hey…"
"Yeah?"
"Is there ever a day where you regret the decision we made?"
Yukino's eyes narrowed. With a small effort, she propped herself to look her husband directly in his eyes.
"It was a decision that had to be done, Hachi. The kids need a stable parent figure in their lives. We both know how it was, growing up in households with physically or emotionally absent parents. And I will not let our children grow up in the same environment we did."
"I get that. It's just, I feel bad. I mean, you were making a name for yourself in the political world. You could have been on the diet now, or even the mayor. I'm just an editor. I could have easily staye-"
"Again, does nothing go through that thick skull of yours? We-no I chose this lifestyle. And I regret nothing." Her eyes softened. "For once in your life, you, Hikigaya Hachiman, wanted to work, not on behalf of anyone else, but for yourself. To utilize the talents that you had, developed by your own merit. And people noticed that. Beyond me, Sensei, Yuigahama-san and Komachi-san, people finally noticed you and your talents. They were willing to provide you with an outlet to cultivate that talent. As a wife and as your biggest supporter, how could I say no?"
Outside the howling winds gradually died down. The moon, previously hidden by the tumultuous snow, shone faintly through the drawn curtains, outlining the slender figure of Yukino. Even after all these years, Hachiman found his wife to be intoxicatingly beautiful.
Yukino smiled, her eyes moist with emotion. "My only regret is being away from you. Seeing you work so hard, you forget to sleep, eat, or even visit your family from time to time pains me. I know it's for our own good but it hurts, knowing that you're working so hard, but I barely see you."
Her smile turned more mischievous. "And I haven't retired. I am merely taking a much needed sabbatical. After all, I have to give my opponents a fair chance. Besides, we both know that there is nothing genuine about the political world. And you know how much we hate illusions. Just look at my dear sister."
Hearing this, Hachiman let out a snicker. Haruno, like her father before her, was a big-shot politician, and married a CEO of a technology company. However, despite her seemingly perfect life, finding the copious amounts of make up scattered in her dressing room and seeing her naked face was a sight that still gave their children nightmares.
Silence fell once more in the cold room. As he typed, Hachiman could feel Yukino drift off, with the occasional jerk rooting her to the world of the awake.
"You know…"
"Hmm?"
"It's been a big mystery to me, one I've largely been chalking up as circumstance. What exactly made you fall for me?"
Yukino paused, a look of surprise on her face. "You know, I wonder that myself. You're one of the biggest pessimists I know, despite your claims of being a so called "realist." Scientists should be harvesting your eyes instead of fish for DHA instead, they're so rotten. You used to use your sad excuse of a childhood to justify your decisions, with each story more awkward then the last. You also played "martyr" many times, inflicting so much harm on yourself that even I've wondered if you were a masochist. And another thing…"
With every attack on his being, Hachiman felt more and more defeated. Good to know that his wife, even after all these years, hadn't lost her touch.
A soft, frail warmth covered his hand, interlacing itself between his own fingers. Looking over at Yukino again, he noticed her blue eyes were warm again, her mouth curved upward in a small smile.
"You are kind to a fault, work harder then anyone I know, and are willing to go to any lengths for those you love. You're strong, and able to do things that no one would be willing to put themselves through. You put yourself through so much just to see the people you love happy. And despite your twisted views on the world, you still expect so much from it, and are willing to sacrifice anything and everything to make others happy." She paused, searching for the right words.
"Simply put, despite all your shortcomings, you are you. That won't ever change. And I fell in love with you, imperfections and all. Plus, it doesn't hurt that your eyes remind me of Pan-san. And that alone is worth at least a hundred, no a thousand Yukino points."
Hachiman looked away, his features tinged with a bright red.
"Th-thanks."
"Mm. Here. I'll correct any mistakes. Not expecting a lot of mistakes from you, but it is you we are talking about."
Sighing, Hachiman leaned back, staring at the ceiling as his wife tapped away at the computer, computer glasses procured from somewhere resting atop the bridge of her nose. The article was nearly complete. All he had to do was write one more paragraph, and the article would be finished.
Not long after, the computer was thrust in front of him again.
"Done. Just some grammatical errors here and there."
"Thanks."
Taking back the slim device, he began to type again. Snow fell softly now, and he could hear the soft breaths of his wife as she fell asleep once more.
"Hey."
"Hmm…?"
"I'm finished. Let's go upstairs."
"Alright."
"Also…thanks."
"For what? I'm merely doing what you would do for me, am I right?"
"Yeah, but still… thanks."
"Idiot." She smiled warmly and pecked him on the cheek, before failing to suppress a gigantic yawn. "Let's go to bed."
Leaving their empty cups on the coffee table, Hachiman and Yukino Hikigaya headed for the stairs, eager to enjoy each other's warmth before they drifted off into some well deserved sleep.
Downstairs, the computer dimmed, its screen displaying a single word document.
"…Marriage is a construct that entraps a person. An institution where one's existence supposedly goes to die. A socially and lawful contract that binds two complete strangers together, forced to procure more strangers, and live their remaining lives domesticated, chained even further to the laws and social constructs of this cruel and unfair world. Funny, how humans are one of the few species to chain ourselves to such a binding agreement. Under God's discretion, we make a deal with the devil.
But, if you manage to find the right one, no matter what the circumstance, hold on to her, as if your life depends on it. Because, it very well may so. Marriage may be where your individual existence goes to die, but if that is true, then it is also where your existence is reborn, rising from the ashes like a phoenix, of old worries and indecisiveness. Marital bliss is an acquired taste, like many of the finer things in life. And in this world, bliss, while rare, comes in a variety of forms, like coming home to the few people who actually love and care about you. Yes, it can be said that marriage is both the greatest blessing and curse of all. A wise person once wrote: "When it comes to marriages or the future, no one knows what's in store. No amount of preparation can protect you from all the unforeseen grief. However, everyone has the right to wish for bliss. In order to prepare for what's coming, one must work for the best possible outcome." In conclusion, if you find a partner, and if said partner is willing to stay up until you come home at ungodly hours with coffee, and is willing to continue to forgo sleep until you finish work, never, and I mean never, let that person go.